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GINGER: My Story, by Ginger Rogers, Harper Collins, 450 pages, $22.
Certainly better crafted than Katharine Hepburn’s recent autobiography, “Me,” and far less vindictive than Bette Davis’ “This ‘n That,” Ginger Rogers’ entry — “Ginger: My Story” — into the autobiographical sweepstakes is refreshingly honest and straightforward, breezily written and lacking in meanspiritedness. The closest she comes to recrimination are a few swipes at her co-star of “Stage Door” — the haughty Miss Hepburn.
Before her introduction to Hollywood, Rogers had been on the New York stage, one of her hits being “Girl Crazy” with music by George Gershwin, whose genius she astutely recognizes. Thus she was no neophyte when she was tapped by Paramount to do a series of films, the first of which was “Young Man of Manhattan” (1930) with Claudette Colbert and Norman Foster. From that point on she was kept busy, almost without interruption, for 76 films. Even her five marriages had to be squeezed in between films.
Although she proved herself a respectable dramatic actress in films such as “Kitty Foyle,” for which she won an Oscar, “Teen-Age Rebel” and “Black Widow,” she will always be remembered primarily for the 10 pictures she made with Fred Astaire, with whom she always had a congenial relationship, rumors to the contrary notwithstanding. Although Astaire had other partners — even the clumsy Joan Crawford in “Dancing Lady” — he was sublimely partnered by the graceful Rogers. Theirs was a unique chemistry.
In their first film, “Flying Down to Rio,” both Astaire and Rogers were in the second leads, but so firm was the impression they made that they were signed immediately for a string of other movies in which their dancing (certainly not the silly plots) was the complete raison d’etre. Who can forget the marvelously choreographed “The Continental” in “Top Hat,” a dance that runs for 20 minutes without repeating itself? When they went into “Flying Down to Rio,” that marked Rogers’ 20th excursion onto the silver screen and Astaire’s second. Her own favorite remains “Swing Time.” With her litheness, fleetfootedness and charming lightness, she met Astaire on his own terms. Further, both were competent singers who could put over a good song. That there was little smooching in their films Rogers attributes to the presence of Phyllis Astaire on the set, a wife who decidedly inhibited her husband.
Apart from her terpsichorean expertise, Rogers was a splendid comedian with a good sense of timing and a wonderful way of delivering a punchy line. In “Stage Door” she handled the ice-coated banter with Hepburn with panache. Rogers held her own with the mannered Kate and then some.
Reading this book is much like tracing a history of Hollywood itself. Apart from personal insights and artistic perceptions, Rogers throws light on such personalities as Cary Grant (whom she adored as a co-actor and as a friend), Lucille Ball, Barbara Stanwyck, James Stewart and, of course, the enduring Astaire.
After her Hollywood career had pretty much petered out, she returned to the stage in such vehicles as “Dolly” and “Mame,” rekindling her love for live audiences. Although a staunch Republican, she did dance for President Franklin Roosevelt and was entertained by President Harry S. Truman, with whom she shared a birthplace (Independence, Mo.).
A devout Christian Scientist, Rogers largely derived her faith from her mother, Lela, who, as a stage mother, often hovered over her talented daughter. Rogers never drank alcohol and she smoked only briefly. She preferred outdoors activities such as tennis and fishing. As a result of a circumspect life, she has reached her four score years.
Robert H. Newall is a free-lance writer who resides in Hampden.
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